


Makes an Ass out of You and Me

by nikniknik



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12600184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikniknik/pseuds/nikniknik
Summary: Niles does not remember much of his childhood. Not in ways he can describe. There are no names, no choices. There are faces, feelings, and sensations. A smear of dirt, blood, and sweat he can look back on easily reconstruct who he was and how he lived. He remembers a hunger as constant and inescapable as his own thoughts, and he remembers what it taught him. Nothing is free, and everything can be sold. Rating, warnings, and tags will be edited to include content as it appears in later chapters.





	Makes an Ass out of You and Me

Niles reaches the top of the rope ladder, (anchored there by one of his _own_ arrows), just in time to see the dark mage pull out a fire tome and use the small blast to incinerate the ladder about three quarters of the way up. His one route out of the castle snaps in a crackle of ash and sparks, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground far below. They’re leaving him behind to take the fall. The phrase makes him think of jumping. It’s what they wanted wasn’t it? He’d grown so unpredictable, so wild, _rabid_ , since he lost his eye. They hated him for it. Even before that though, none of them liked to look at him. If they did they would have to see the kind of thing that they’d shaped and grown. There were missions in the past he suspected he was not supposed to return from. Looks like this one finally worked. If he jumps he might be able to have some small, petty revenge. If he dies now, this way, no guards would waste time on him. They might still catch his rotten backstabbing pitiable family.

He takes a step forward. The heat of the flames steadily climbing the remainder of the ladder rises up through the window where he stands. One foot up on the ledge he stops. It is the heat that holds him there, unmoving. The distorted waves of air that ripple past his face make his stomach turn and his chest ache. He leans away from the opening as if physically pushed. The pain in his eye soars and he can almost feel the hot poker against his skin again, can almost hear sickening hiss, almost smell the acrid nauseating smell, hear the hellish laughter. He won’t be able to do it. Not this way. Then footsteps hurry into the room behind him and he smiles ruefully. It looks like he didn’t have to. The voice from behind him speaks, younger than he had anticipated, but as harsh as he could have dreamed. 

“Stop, thief! There’s nowhere left for you to go.”

He couldn’t stop since he wasn’t moving. Instead to show his compliance he drops his bow, and it falls to the stone floor with an unmistakably final sort of clatter. His expression full of a calm he had no right to be experiencing, he turns to face the boy who’d caught him. Mistrusted and abandoned by his own gang, the last shred of fight he had been hanging onto slips between his fingers. He feels what he thinks must be joy, knowing his life will soon be over.

“There’s no need to worry. I’m not going to run.” 

The person who glares him down is roughly his own age. Maybe a little younger but not by much. It is hard for him to know since Niles only has a vague idea of how long he’s been on this earth. The boy is his opposite in nearly every way; healthy, groomed, well fed, pampered. A literal prince, if Niles had to guess. The thunder tome tucked under his arm brings sparks to his fingers. Niles stares at them crackling there as if they are the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. The boy’s fingers don’t move. For some incomprehensible reason he hesitates. 

“Quit waiting, come on.” He gestures with his now weaponless hand to the boy standing no more than ten feet away. “Just kill me, please. End it. Don’t linger on it like this.” 

As usual, he does not get what he wanted. The world denies him even this one last wish. To die quickly and efficiently. The crackling around the boy’s hand slowly fizzles out, as an intense curiosity blooms behind his stern expression. Niles is frustrated. He can't care enough to be angry. He is just so tired. He isn’t trying to fight, isn’t trying to prolong this. What is stilling the young noble’s hand? 

“No. I don’t think I will.” 

Mercy is a new concept to both of them. Niles never having found himself on the receiving end, and Leo never really having been exposed to it. Softness is something punishable by death in Krakenburg, a lesson Leo keeps close to his heart. A tense silence stretches out. The disappointment Niles feels starts to waver. Confusion, relief. No, back to disappointment. Then finally nothing. He has no idea how to feel, so he just doesn’t. He crosses his arms, standing a little straighter despite everything.

“Why not? Surely someone as powerful and mighty as yourself has got the stomach for it.” He spits the words with less vitriol than he intended. Ultimately they are a plea, and no amount of backhanded compliments or quips could change that. 

“Silence wretch! You will hold your tongue until I am finished addressing you.”

“No I won’t, I’m going to bother you until you kill me, so come _on!_ ”

At that the Lordling actually puts away his tome, walks over, and slaps Niles. It lands sharp and loud on the right side of his face. The pain drops him to the floor trembling, but he does not scream. This pain is his to suffer, no one else’s to take pride or joy or satisfaction in. He can feel the caked ooze and scabs from his eye crack and start to weep puss and blood again into the already filthy bandage wrapped inexpertly around his head. The snarl of a beaten, dying animal on his face he looks up at the boy before him. His should be executioner wipes the grime from touching filth like him from his hand with a little embroidered cloth. Niles wants to rip off his bandage, grab that scrap of fabric and shove it into his own eye socket. Make it unsalvageable, force the boy to burn it. Teach him that some things should not be saved. 

“I’ve never met anyone so unafraid of death as you, it intrigues me. I believe it will make you an exceptional retainer. I am Lord Leo, Second Prince of Nohr. Swear your loyalty to me, thief.” 

It is not presented as a choice, but the words hanging in the air seem like one. That too is new to Niles. The novelty of it gives him pause, helps cool the anger creeping back into his otherwise empty head and heart. He stands, and Leo does not protest. He thinks about it. Leo lets him. He glances over at the window. The flames had burnt out, just a smear of soot on the stone. He could finish himself off now if he felt like it, since apparently this brat won’t do it for him. The temptation is there and it is strong, but he looks back to the angry commanding boy before him, and decades later he is still glad he did. He sees someone incredibly stupid. He sees someone incredibly dangerous. He sees someone beautiful and pristine and vile. He sees a murky, clouded view of the next hour of his life, the next day, and forward from there. He chooses to kneel, figuring that the window wasn’t going to go anywhere if he changed his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, a very short chapter one. As anybody who knows me is aware, I suck at multichapter things so uh. Don't get your hopes up I guess, but this chunk of it worked well as a self contained thing so I figured I would post it to hopefully give myself some motivation to work on the sticky transitional bits. I'm open to crit, especially with how I'm writing Leo since I'm not super confident with his voice yet. Also for the most part I'm trying to keep this canon compliant, but come on nintendo give Niles a Nasty Eyesocket Scar what is wrong with you street urchins don't get medical care.


End file.
